


Rites of Passage

by drowningblonde



Category: Voltron - Fandom
Genre: F/M, graphic violence non con POW course language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowningblonde/pseuds/drowningblonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about Lotor's first captured Alliance ship. Told from his pov. Language warning, sex,violence and an unhealthy amount of the Crown Prince's famous ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**I would like to take this opportunity to say that I do not own Voltron or any of the characters featured in it. They belong to the lucky folks at WEP and Devil's Due comics. All other characters are mine, however, as they are figments of my twisted imagination.  
**

 

 

 

_As requested, I did a minor edit on the radio pro-words to make them more sound more Drule-like. I hope that this enhances the dialogue and provides the reader with a more believable world.  
_

 

 

**Rites of Passage  
**

 

 

They say you always remember your first time. That you will never experience that same feeling again with another. I certainly remember my first time. Her name was the GA-HMS Highlander. She was a Remington- Class carrier. She was an Alliance warship, not a pirate's skiff or a pathetic cargo vessel. And she was my first kill.

 

  
**Chapter 1  
**

 

 

I am flouting protocol by being here. I should be directing the attack from the safety of the bridge but regulations mean little to me right now. Instead, I am standing in the catwalk, waiting for my four man demolition crew to pop the old bitch's hatch. I stare intensely at the graying chipped paint of the ship's hull as if by doing so it will open faster. To say I am breathless with anticipation would be an immense understatement. I shift from one foot to the other, the magnetized soles of my boots making pinging sounds on the thin metal floor.

"Sir, we're almost there. Estimated seven minutes to breach." The crew chief, as if sensing my irritation, updates me, as I watch them work with lazon torches to pry her open.

"No worries…she's not going anywhere." I say smugly and I feel an irrepressible smile flicker across my face. She really isn't going anywhere. Not under her own power, that is. She is technically adrift and only the tractor beams from my cruiser hold her at rest. I still can't believe how easily I took her down. A carrier! Out manned and out gunned, there should have been no way my crew and cruiser could have taken her! But I did.

The orange red glow of molten metal rings the charred opening as the torches keep burning through with a hissing sound. I watch as droplets of it spill down forming perfect spheres in the reduced gravity of the catwalk before falling in slow motion to the floor. The bright red spots lay there like blood from a wound.

I take a deep breath, trying to stem my frustration. I have deployed two additional boarding teams aft and starboard. This is my ship. My kill. I want to be the first to come aboard her and claim my prize. And if these fuck-sticks don't hurry up, I'm going to be late for my own party, I think sourly.

"Bridge to Firesword Actual. We have visual on skeet. Please advise. Over." My first officer says over the comm in my ear. He forwards it to me and I look up to my left to see the bridge's main screen in miniature on the inside of my visor. I watch as four escape pods race to a jump port. I consider giving the order to fire on them but reconsider when I think about the value of that human cargo. I make a split second decision. It is brazen and reckless, just like attacking the carrier was. But instinctively I know it's the right action.

"Check fire on the skeet. Kill the jump port. Over." I order.

"Verify fire call. Over."

"Check fire on the skeet. Kill the jump port. Over." I repeat the order more forcefully.

"Kill the jump port?"

"Affirmative."

"Understood. Will comply."

My second looks over at me questioningly. I glare back at him. He's senior enlisted and he has proven invaluable during this, my first float as a commander. But I will not have my orders second guessed by anyone.

I watch as one of the pods makes it to the port and disappears in a flash. "Nngh!" I growl in anger.  
This is taking far too long and I hear my men behind me shuffle restlessly. They are as eager as I am to make the Alliance taste the bile of defeat. I begin to worry that the enemy has had too much time to set up a defense. I begin to strategize on what countermeasures they will use. There's certainly a squad or two waiting on us on the other side. They will be positioned just outside the airlock, behind the blast doors in a stagger pattern. Humans are such creatures of habit. They'll probably use grenades first. As soon as we crack open the hatch they will launch them in and try to blow the catwalk and us with it into free fall in open space. That would really ruin my day.

But fortunately, I have prepared for that eventuality. PBFS. Portable Blast Force Shielding. The same thing we use to protect our ships from laser fire, projectile ordinance and bits of space debris. Except smaller and portable. It also has the added benefit of reflecting the concussion wave and any incendiary back in the direction it came. Not a big deal in the open, but it should prove to be very dramatic in within the narrow confines of the airlock. I ponder the results of a grenade attack and I actually hope that they hit us with everything they've got.

"Firesword Actual , HammerHand is at ready. Set on hot. Over." The team leader on the starboard side informs me.

"Understood. Stay ready. " I reply. Then suddenly I see a bright flash and a ring burst on my visual and I know the jump gate has been destroyed. Even if they make it to the pods, they have nowhere to go. I laugh to myself. This is going flawlessly-

"Bridge to Firesword Actual, We've got fleas! Over." It's my first officer again. Now what? I check my visual and I see three F-37 fighters bearing down on my vessel in a V formation. Immediately I think that they are going to come straight for the catwalks. Then to my relief, I see the fighter squadron that I initially deployed to provide cover for us vector to intercept. The Alliance pilots are obviously on a suicide mission and if they want to die I will certainly oblige them. Now this is my idea of a win-win situation.

" Firesword Actual to bridge. Flight crews to their stations. Execute kill." I order. I watch as moments later as another squadron of six fly out to smash these annoying pests into ballast. Then two of mine are shot down immediately as they exit the hanger. There were four Alliance fighters! One had been hiding under the Alliance vessel waiting in ambush.

"Fuck!" I curse loudly. I regret it immediately and recover my bearing as my second looks over at me again as do several of my soldiers.

"OneKill Six to Firesword Actual. We are at ready." The other team checks in.

"Stand ready. Over." I reply. They're waiting on us and I'm pissed. But I still will not order them to board without me. She's mine and I'm going first.

"OneKill is standing ready."

I check my visual again and one of my fighters scores a kill and another Alliance fighter is being chased. I watch as the pilot doubles back around and tries to shake them. Quite a talented flier…too bad he's on the losing side. Then a shudder courses down the catwalk and my visual of the bridge screen goes blank. I suddenly feel very vulnerable in the long fragile tube that holds me suspended in open space.

"Firesword Actual to bridge. What's going on over there? Over." I ask trying not to let my emotions show. I'm getting nervous that I may have bitten off more than I can chew. But I can never let anyone see that. Ever.

"We've taken a direct hit, Sir! Ship to ship collide. It's a friendly! One of our own birds, Sir. Over."

" Ngh! Damage report. Over."

"Fires on the third and fourth decks, Sir. Initiating containment procedures. Shielding and propulsion are unaffected but communications reports a bug. Over."

"Understood. Where's my visual? Over."

" Working on restoring visual now, Sir."

"Understood. Out."

It's as good as bad news can be. Third and fourth are berthing sections, which would be empty of crew right now. The damage is mostly cosmetic. But I realize now that I may have to return to the bridge. This bitch might be adrift but she is far from conquered. It is possible that I may not be the first to board my prize and I feel deeply disappointed at the thought. Such are the pitfalls of command…I will sorely miss the thrill of charging into battle and the chance to kill the enemy with my own hands.

"How long until we're in?" I ask my demolition crew chief calmly. My tone reflects none of the anger I'm feeling.

  
"The PFBS is in place and Just have to get through this last set of bolts, Sir, and set the charges." He answers attaching a fuse to EMT cap. I watch as the second to last bolt melts through and try not to scream at their slowness.

My visor flickers as my visual is restored and the image I see startles me. It's an Alliance pilot! They have the most annoying habit of hacking into our shipboard comm channels.

"Hey motherfuckers! Did you like that? You want some more?" A female voice shouts a mixture of Terran obscenities and Trade. I shake my head in irritation and switch channels.

"Firesword Actual to bridge. Send out another fighter squadron and shut them down. " I order casually.

"Sir, we're ready to set the charges." The crewman says.

Finally!

"Firesword is in position. Everybody ready to get some?" I'm excited and I completely abandon any attempt at comm etiquette. I can tell they are as well by their response.

"Yes, Sir!" HammerHand replies.

"Will. Comply." chimes in OneKill.

I smile at their enthusiasm.

"Battle formation! " I order all teams. With me in the lead we form two lines six deep and assume a position about ten feet from the entrance of the cat walk. We activate life support systems and ready our weapons.

"Fire in the hole!" Yells the crew chief and detonates the charges. There's a small flash as the explosion jolts the cut out piece of the hull away and it falls backward into the catwalk. There is an immediate eruption of fire as a volley of grenades impact the PFBS shields. I stand impassively as a plume of fire seems to come swirling into the catwalk. It is an optical illusion created by the shield as it absorbs then repels the energy of the blast, but still some of my men flinch. I make a mental note of who the cowards are.

"Advance! All teams go! You are cleared hot. Repeat. You are cleared hot!" I yell into my comm as we charge in through the acrid smoke and twisted molten metal.  
My comm is interrupted by the Alliance pilot once more. I still have visual and I see her bearing down on our catwalk with four of mine behind her firing wildly. She's going to fire on it and suck us all into space.

"Oh, no you fucking don't! If I'm gonna die I'm takin' your fucking blue asses with me!" She snarls.

"Seal off the walk! Seal off the walk!" I yell franticly to my crew chief as we rush straight into Alliance laser fire.

I return fire on them and I see my crew chief go down as he tries to close off the walk remotely.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I curse. We are in a narrow corridor that extends in front and behind us and we are taking heavy fire from both sides. My men are holding ground but we are not advancing away from the entrance just yet as it is our only source of cover. There is still too much smoke for us to see where our targets are and we can't use our infrared because of the latent heat from the grenades. We are pinned down. Then my second throws a grenade taking out those that are in front. We press our advantage and gain ground into the airlock and some cover. I can hear in my comm that the other squads are faring only slightly better. The Alliance is putting up more of fight than I expected.

I'm tucked against the bulkhead trying to range my targets by the direction of their fire, when it occurs to me, in those odd, still moments that you only experience during live combat, that I was indeed the first to step aboard my ship. I feel a sudden elation and it fuels my bloodlust. I'm in the zone now and instinct takes over. I can practically smell where they are hiding. I make three kills in rapid succession and there is a significant reduction in enemy fire.

"Seal off that fucking walk now!" I order again to the remaining members of the demo crew. Then I realize I am too late. I see in my visual that the Alliance pilot is coming back around, this time with only three of mine chasing her and I get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. There is no way I will be defeated on my first attempt at conquest! I think of my father and cringe. I don't think even death would be a refuge from his scorn.

I look behind me and I see that the second demo crewman is trying to close the walk but it won't seal because the grenade attack has damaged the surrounding structure. I look down to my left where my crew chief has fallen and I see the PBFS control by his leg. I lunge for it and land on my stomach just as there is a horrible roaring sound. The pilot has hit her mark finally. The catwalk is collapsing and the atmosphere and everything else in corridor is being vacuumed out into the killing void of space.

I feel myself being dragged on the ground toward the hole in the hull and I desperately try to activate the shield but nothing is happening.  I am pummeled by random objects as they are sucked out into space. I see an Alliance soldier slide screaming past me. His fingers clutch the jagged edges of the opening then disappear.  I clutch at anything and nothing with my free hand. The floor, the walls, but I am still dragged relentlessly toward the abyss. Then, for reasons known only to the Gods, the shield boots up and seals the hole. The chaos stops as suddenly as it started.

I find myself pressed halfway against the opening with the shield buzzing at my back. There is an Alliance soldier next to me and we are face to face. Both of us have just escaped an agonizing death by a hair's breath. Our eyes meet for a moment of shared relief and as he collects himself I draw my sidearm and shoot him.

"Damn, Sir. You're one mean son of bitch." says my second with a crooked grin as he makes his way over to me and hauls me to my feet.  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron or any of the characters featured in it. Nope. Not one of 'em. They are the property of WEP and Devil's Due comics. All original characters are mine and I don't make any money from this story.**

 

**Chapter 2**

 

 Once on my feet I immediately assess our situation. The air is clear of smoke now and it appears we are alone in the corridor except for the Alliance soldier I have killed. I know that we have other casualties in addition to my demo chief because we are at least three fewer in number. "Give me a head count! Who's still here?" I ask my second. He begins the roster and I check on my other teams.

"OneKill this is Firesword Actual. I need a sit-rep. Over." I ask. There is no immediate answer. I call my other team. "HammerHand this is Firesword Actual I need a sit-rep. Over."

"Wait." Is their terse reply.

 It is not the one I wanted and I know that they must be under heavy fire. I call my bridge and order reinforcements to both teams. And a med-vac unit.

"OneKill, OneKill this is Firesword. Acknowledge. Over" I try again. Nothing. I look at the PFBS and there is a dim glowing horizontal line scrolling down it. It will not hold for much longer.

"We need to get out of here!" I say to no one in particular.

"I'm on it, Sir!" It's my NSOE. Network Security Override Expert. This is just a very polite term for a hacker. He's already got a card in the control panel of the door and is working on the code.

I don't want to use my demo crew on this because if the shield fails before we're out of this section I need that blast door to close behind us or we'll join the lost members of my team in free fall.

"We lost Sal'jeen , Mei'er, and Jaen. Si'ila's been hit. He says he's fine but Meds says he's twitchy." Twitchy is when you are hit with so many laser blasts at once that your body armor cannot absorb any more energy and the excess re-circulates through your nervous system. It's like a 50,000 volt shock each time you're hit.

 I am about to respond when my ominously silent comm blows up with noise in my ear as both teams check in almost simultaneously.

Firesword Actual this is HammerHand Six . We are clear. We are clear."

"Firesword Actual this is OneKill Five. This is OneKill Five. Our Six is down. We are taking heavy fire."

It's all happening so fast and although I know exactly what to do I feel that I cannot issue orders quickly enough. I call up the schematics of the Alliance vessel and a three dimensional image of the ship structure appears on my visor. I can see where my teams are by their locators. OneKill has gained significant ground but is now being pinned down by the hangers where the ship's crew has gathered to evacuate. The Alliance knows now they have nowhere to go and is going to make a last stand. They have us out manned in numbers only.

At least half of an Alliance crew is combat support with a questionable ability to load and fire a blaster-rifle. To us it is a joke. We are War fighters. That is our only job. The fact that my 16 man team has held out against that cluster fuck is proof of this. There must be at least a hundred Alliance troops against them. I am proud. And determined that they will get to enjoy this victory with me.

"This is FireSword Actual. Acknowledged. Retreat and take cover. Over"

 "Authenticate."

"Kesh'u moi. Kesh'u moi." I reply with a code word that no human would ever use. The team knows the Alliance's tendency to hack into our comms and issue false orders. They don't trust my command and they want to confirm that I have given it.

"Correct. Will comply. Out."

Just then the PFBS behind me gives a threatening crackle.

Before I can even ask my NSOE answers. "I'm transferring now, Sir! We're out of here in four, three, two….Open!" he shouts.

He is worth his weight in gold. "Well done! Yoi! Well done." I say. I will be sure to remember his name when I write up my report.

 "Move out! Engage at will." I order them. The faster we get away from this suck hole the better. I watch as they charge off down the hall. Si'ila at the end his gait jerky as his overwhelmed nervous system cannot convince his legs to work together. I take up the rear this time. I am an officer and we are the first in and the last out. I jog up next to him as we approach the entrance.

 "Si'ila you got the tingles?" I ask joking a little with the injured man.

He turns to look at me as we cross through the door. "Ngh, I'm fine, Sir! I've had hangovers worse than—Get down!" He shouts and I feel his hand on my head pushing me. He flies backward and I see the Alliance soldier I thought was dead on his knees with a blaster rifle. I raise my weapon to fire back but just then the shield fails and the last thing I see is his sorry ass being sucked into space as the blast door slams shut.

 I look down at Si'ila. He is trembling violently and the Meds rushes over and rips off his visor and chest plate. He tubes him and slaps suckers on his chest near his collar bones attempting to stabilize the coronary arrhythmia. Without an immediate evac unit he will not survive. Without the catwalk there will be no evac. He is dying needlessly and it wrenches at me. My body armor would have shielded me. I was in no danger. In spite of that he took the shot meant for his commander. I have lost three others besides him but I can't think about that now because I must take this ship and bring the rest us to glory.

I grab his hand and feel the shuddering stop. I have lost men before. I have even knowingly ordered some to their deaths. But this one- this one, it will stay with me.

I make the decision to move out. We stay in formation and begin the long process of manually climbing the decks to the bridge. We will come back for our fallen after the enemy is prostrate at my feet. There is no better way to honor the dead than with victory.

The ship is surprisingly quiet and we do not encounter any more resistance from Alliance infantry. Something doesn't feel right about this but I don't know what it is. Then my first officer calls me.

 " Bridge to Firesword Actual we have visual on skeet. Advise. Over."

"Ngh?" I growl under my breath. More skeet? What the—then it occurs to me. They see that I have held my fire on the escape pods. Perhaps the captain of this ship seeks to save the lives of his non combat crew members by removing them from the ship?

It has been our policy in the past to destroy the vessel leaving those prisoners we cannot carry with us to escape if they can. My cruiser is small compared to this behemoth. Even if I ordered all hands out of their berths and used all common areas I still could not cram of half the Alliance crew onto my ship. But, I have a plan that will allow for that. This captain is applying outdated rules to a game that I am not playing.

"Check Fire on skeet. Maintain visual. Over." I order.

"Will comply. Over."

"Seven Cloud to Firesword Actual. We are aboard. Over." The first of my reinforcements calls me.

"Understood. Execute to follow. Stand ready." I say.

"Seven Cloud at ready."

"OneKill. OneKill. This is FireSword Actual. Where are you? Over." I ask. It has been too long since I heard from them.

"This is OneKill Four to Firesword Actual. We are clear in back. We are clear in back. Have casualties that need immediate evac. Over." is the reply. Finally. They have retreated safely but lost at least one more.

"Acknowledged. OneKill Four. Sending reinforcements and evac. Stand by. Out." I order Seven Cloud to link up with OneKill and check the status of my second reinforcement team. They are almost aboard.

There has been some problem with the last remaining Alliance pilot. She has finally been hit and is tumbling powerless into space. I am glad. It is justice that she suffers the death that she had chosen for me. There is no worse fate for a pilot than to face the freezing emptiness alone left only with the sum of their own tactical errors to keep them company. Or is there? I think of the foul mouthed creature who tried to steal both my dignity and my destiny. No! I will not allow her to die with any honor.

 "Firesword Actual to Bridge. Send a recovery team for her. I want her alive if possible. Over." I order with narrowed eyes. There is a pause before my first officer answers.

 "Understood. Will comply." I think I detect a note of sinister agreement in his tone.

"Blacksky Six to Firesword Actual. We are aboard. Advise. Over." The second reinforcement team arrives and I order them to sync up with HammerHand and start to do a sweep of the ship. Since our initial boarding there has been no report of enemy contact except from OneKill's position at the hangers. The situation disturbs me greatly. It is as if they are just abandoning ship with barely a fight. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

"Bridge to Firesword Actual. We have more skeet. They are dumping skeet, Sir! Over."

"Repeat last. Over." I ask not thinking I heard the transmission clearly.

"We have more skeet. They are dumping skeet. Over." he replies.

"Firesword Actual to bridge. How many? Over."

"Twelve plus, Sir."

I shake my head in disbelief as I calculate the numbers. Each pod holds approximately 120 crew. The carrier holds 25 pods which will be able to evac her entire crew plus any civilians or prisoners aboard. They have already dropped nine. Plus the twelve….they are either abandoning ship en masse or this is a trap.

"Use the _seihu_ to scan for biologics. Give me numbers. Over." I say. If they think to trick me by putting a few aboard each pod they will be mistaken. It's an old trick. Make us think the ship is abandoned then have fire teams lying in ambush. Nice try. Our scanners can determine the number of personnel by quantifying the bio-electric fields that are generated by all living creatures. I will know shortly if that is what my adversary has planned. I wait for my first officer's report. It will take a few moments, but we are still climbing decks. We have seven more to go and for once since I have come aboard I have the time to wait.

"Bridge to Firesword Actual. Ratio between 2000 and 2280 bodies on board. Over."

"Understood. Out." I answer. So they have abandoned the ship! There must be nothing but a skeleton crew left if that! But why? It is still very odd to me. I think for a moment about my two under-manned teams and consider if I should order the rest of my teams to come aboard. It is time for the Highlander to come under my command. She will be mine. I call in the order.

We are nearly to the bridge and I order my men to use caution. If there are Alliance troops left, lying in wait, they will be here, protecting the nerve center of the Highlander. We approach stealthily, all of us expecting a volley of laser at any moment from every corner or shadow. But there is nothing. No one. Not a sound except for the nearly inaudible hum of the ship's air circulators. The ship appears empty and I have no good feelings about this at all.

"HammerHand to Firesword Actual. We are clear. No contact. Over." I get the update and it does not reassure me.

 "Acknowledged. HammerHand. Assemble a scout team to propulsions. Send your NSOE and a demo. Out." I reply.

This is all very strange.

We arrive at the bridge.

My NSOE starts to override the door, and then turns to me and says. "It's unlocked." He frowns and looks puzzled.

I order him to back away. This is undoubtedly a trap. I am about to tell my demo crew to scan for explosives when the door slides open. It startles me and it takes all my self control not to hit the deck. The bridge appears deserted as well. Still I brace and point my weapon all around the room looking for the ambush I am sure I will find. My second joins me at the entrance doing the same. The bridge looks deserted. Suddenly the command chair swivels slowly around and seated calmly in it is the Highlander's captain.

"Took you long enough." She says in a clipped tone.

 

 

**Glossary:**

_Kesh'u moi:_ regional slang. Pejorative for female genitalia. Literal translation is good valley. Has a significant contextual usage.

 _Seihu:_ nick-name for a shipboard scanner. Also a blind shark like creature that hunts by sensing the bio-electricity of its prey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron/Go Lion or any of their characters. They are the property of WEP and Devil's Due Comic and Toei Animation. All other characters are mine. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and** I am not monetarily compensated in any way.

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

 

 

For a moment I ignore the captain. I order my demo crew to run a scan of the room to check for explosives before we enter.

 "It's clear. I'm alone and unarmed." She seems almost amused. I wouldn't believe her if I could read her mind.

 "All clear." The demo says.

My second and I enter the room with our weapons drawn and pointed at the captain. The others come in behind me the same way and do a manual sweep of the bridge looking for any surprises. As I approach I take a good look at the captain. She is a very petite, small boned woman with dark hair. I'm confused because at first I think she is a child. It is sometimes hard for us to gage the age of humans because of their smaller physical size and lack of facial ridging. Except for the very old, most appear highly neotenous to our eyes. As I get closer I see that she is not young at all. She has piercing grey blue eyes and the strong well defined bone structure and high cheek bones of women who carry their age well. But her skin is lined around her eyes and forehead and her dark hair is threaded with grey and has shocks of white at both temples. Her face is set like a stone from the rigors of command, but I am sure that she is still lovely when she smiles.

 

As my second and I draw near her with our weapons drawn and pointed I begin to feel a bit ridiculous. I am in full body armor and armed with a blaster-rifle, two side arms and my lazon sword and I'm tip-toeing up to an old woman seated primly in a chair. My chagrin is made worse by the nonchalance with which she regards us. She begins to stand up to give formal greeting and my entire team swings around and takes aim at her. I groan inwardly. This is ridiculous!

 "I see my reputation precedes me." She says glibly as she takes her feet, her eyes sparkle with something akin to satisfaction.

She is even smaller than I thought. The top of her head barely reaches the middle of my chest. I am suddenly very claustrophobic in my helmet and embarrassed by my caution. I stand down my weapon snap up my visor and pull off my headgear. The filtered cool air of the bridge smells clean and feels refreshing on my perspiring face.

"Sir?" my second cautions. I silence him with a look. I am sure that I'm in no physical danger from the little old lady. Even if she does leap up on a chair and punch me in the nose.

"You are…young." She eyes me with the evaluative stare of a senior officer and I become acutely aware of my disheveled braid and the pieces of hair plastered to my forehead with sweat.

 "And you are not." I retort defensively.

She arches an eyebrow in annoyance. Women are the same everywhere I note.

 "And who are you? To whom do I have the honor of surrendering to?" She asks.

"I am Commander Lotor Sincline of the Supremacy's Fourth Fleet, Crown Prince of Korrinoth." I answer her proudly.

"Never heard of you." She says frankly. Her candor is unexpected for someone in her situation. She is feisty and betrays no hint of fear at the danger we present to her person. I find a grudging measure of respect for her.

"You will surrender this vessel, the GA-HMS Highlander and all her crew and cargo to the Supremacy or suffer complete annihilation." I say in my most commanding voice.

"Of course, of course….I don't want to be completely annihilated." She mocks me a little and then clears her throat and comes to attention. "I, Captain Cynthia McAllister of the British Royal Navy of Earth in service to the Galaxy Alliance, do surrender the ship GA-HMS Highlander, all her crew and cargo to Commander Sincline of the Drule Supremacy's Fourth Fleet, Crown Prince of Korrinoth." She concludes and presents me with her officer's sword. I reach out and take the sword from her hands and we bow to each other slightly. "You have the bridge, Commander Sincline." She says honoring the tradition of a senior officer turning over command to a junior.

 It is so easy that it is almost anti-climactic. I don't know what to feel. Then it begins to sink in…I have won! I have taken the ship…The Highlander is mine…her captain has surrendered…to me! I want to jump in the air and shout in triumph! I order two of my men to take her into custody and bring her aboard my ship. I watch as they snap the restraints on her wrists with a click. Her expression is guarded but I swear it is as triumphant as mine. For a split second my feeling of unease returns. She executes a flawless about face and they escort her off the bridge.

 I walk over to the command chair and stroke my hand across the back of it and along the neck rest and sit down. So this is how it feels, I think. My first. It is thrilling, satisfying and wonderful. I already want more. The chair is small for me and a little uncomfortable but I don't mind. I remove the comm from my ear now that the grunt portion of the mission is over.

I look over at my second with a smile twitching my lips and say "First Sergeant Gar'ein call all hands and hail the bridge of the Rihan Annsu." A moment later I see my First Officer on the screen and his face registers his initial astonishment at seeing my face on his visual.

 "This is Commander Sincline from the bridge of the Highlander. She is ours." I say and an enormous grin splits my face. "Her commander, Captain McAllister, is in custody. Make ready to take her aboard."

"Yes, Sir." He replies smiling as well. "Uh, Sir?" "Yes?" "Congratulations, Sir!" He compliments me and braces at attention and crosses his fist across his chest in salute.

"Noted. Sincline, Out." I terminate the transmission for now. I have to get the Highlander back online. My work to bring this prize home to the Supremacy has only just begun.

"Can you get into the system?" I ask my NSOE. Undoubtedly the ship's computers have had the drives wiped clean and locked down. If there is a way to retrieve the information, Yoi will know it.

"Absolutely, Sir," he says and unzips his field pack and pulls out the tools of his trade and gets down to business. I can tell by the look on his face he lives for this work.

"Propulsion to Bridge." The crew assembled from Black Sky and HammerHand hails.

"This is Commander Sincline. Go ahead." I respond.

"Uh, Sir…we're trying to get the auxiliaries back up but there's something draining all the juice to life support."

"Get your NSOE to trace it and reroute it." Why are they bothering me with this? It's basic procedure.

"Yes, Sir. We tried that and it requires an executive over-ride code." They reply.

That's odd. And aggravating since my NSOE is not done hacking into the system. I look at the officer's sword that McAllister gave me. She still has her card with all of the command over-ride codes. In my excitement I forgot to take it from her. I recall her escort and order her returned to the bridge.

"Stand Ready. Execute to follow. " I say.

"Yoi, did you hear that?" I ask my NSOE.

"Yes, Sir. Uh, I'm noticing something here too. The systems are running slow, like the tubes are cooking or something. Power is being diverted from the coolers and they're starting to overheat." He says without his fingers missing a keystroke.

"Where to?" I ask. I remember the secret look on McAllister's face when she surrendered.

"Life support. Looks like to the g-cylinder. Nnhg!" he says and finishes with a curse as something in the system frustrates him.

The sinking feeling in my stomach returns. Propulsion and cooling both the jump drive coils and the massive computer network systems are the most energy hungry of any shipboard mechanisms. There is no reason to send power to the g-cylinder. A power surge could destabilize it and collapse the containment field.

 I call back to propulsion. "Bridge to propulsion. Check the jump drive coils. Out."

"Yes, Sir."

"Uh, Sir?" Yoi calls me.

"Nhg?" I grunt back.

"Sir, it's, uh, it's all going to life support. Definitely the g-cylinder. We got a problem."

Just then there is a something like a low pressure wave that washes through the ship. I feel heavier. Clumsier. Like I do when I come off a long float and step planet-side for the first time. My boarding crews notice it too and they call the bridge in alarm.

"Bridge this is Seven Cloud Six. We just had a change in polarity down here. Advise."

Shit. A shift in polarity only means one thing. The g-cylinder has had a power surge.

 "Seven Cloud this Commander Sincline. We're coming online here. Stand Ready. Execute to Follow." I say back. The truth is I have no idea what order to give right now. G-cylinder containment failures are theoretical problems and the stuff of nightmares. The phrase "sub-atomic disintegration" sticks in my mind. As do "inter-dimensional worm-hole" and "event horizon." If the g-cylinder destabilizes and the containment field fails the resulting explosion will be visible throughout the galaxy. There will be nothing left of us except traces of radiation.

"Yoi! Are you online yet? I need these systems up so I can power down that g-cylinder that's going to shit. And where the fuck is McAllister?" I growl.

Just then there's another pressure wave and this one sets off the alarms and a monotone 'whoop-whoop' resonates throughout the ship. Teams from all over the ship start hailing the bridge. I delegate the responsibility of answering them to my second.

"I'm in Sir, but I keep going blue and getting kicked out. I need the executive over-ride or some more time to shim the codes." he answers tensely.

I don't need to tell him that we don't have more time and the situation is going critical, but I do anyway. "Hurry the fuck up."

"Yes, Sir."

I am about to call my prisoner escort when I hear a voice behind me.

"Miss me already?" It's Captain McAllister.

"No. I need your XO card." I say without turning around. All of my previous civility is gone.

"Oh, that. Are you sure I didn't leave it up here?" she asks with an innocence that she has never known.

I turn on her at the end of my patience. "Old woman, give me that card now."

"I think it's in my pocket." She says and holds up her shackled hands. I nod to the guard to unlock her.

She pats around her uniform tunic taking far longer than she needs. "Ah, here it is!" she produces the card with a flourish.

I reach around and snatch it out of her hand and slide it into the slot at the command console and I try to access the command screen. Nothing happens. I glare at her.

"You need the password." She tells me.

"Give it to me." I demand.

"No. I'm afraid I won't do that."

"Yes, you will!" I shout at her. Normally this would be enough to send even one of mine shaking. But she remains calm, almost bored. I can sense her lack of reaction undermining my authority. I stalk over to her and grab her by the upper arm haul her up on her toes. Just then there's another wave, this one strong enough to jolt us off balance. The change in the ship's artificial gravity is markedly stronger and I can feel it push-pulling on me with random pulses. The warning alarms increase to critical and a ships emergency system starts issuing contra-alto evacuation orders in Trade. "This is my ship now and you will do as I command! Or I will-!"

"You will what?" she cuts me off. "Have me flogged for insubordination?" She asks as the sultry voiced emergency system repeats the order to evacuate.

"Nnhg!" I growl and drop her back to her feet in exasperation.

"Sir, I'm in." It's Yoi and he sounds grim. "Sir, power is being diverted from all systems and rerouted to the g-cylinder. It's reached critical and the containment field is collapsing." He puts the schematic on the side screen and I see the numbers. This was deliberate.

 

"You did this!" I accuse her. Her steely eyes meet mine. She nods and I see that she is indeed lovely when she smiles. "Why?" I ask as if it matters.

 

"I wouldn't have if some hnafir'rau commander hadn't destroyed to jump port." She answers sharply.

 

I set my jaw at the Drule insult. The soft spoken lady is gone and now I meet the woman with the mettle to rise up the ranks of the Alliance command.

 

"There are four lifeboats left. I suggest you use them. Oh, and you might want to order your crew on the Rihan Annsu to evacuate as well. That is if they don't mutiny and do it themselves once they figure out that you've led them to slaughter." She continues.

 

"What?" I ask. Then I see what she has done. Conniving old bitch! She had lured us on board with her supposed helplessness. I was right! It was too easy! Now half of my crew is onboard this potential 'black hole' and the other half is tethered to it along with my ship! All the while her crew is well out of harm's way awaiting rescue. The alarms increase in urgency and the computer now begins a count-down. We have an estimated 15 minutes left before the g-cylinder collapses and rips a hole into space-time. Unless the old bitch can be convinced to shut it down. Which I know she won't be since this is what she had planned all along.

 

She will go down with her ship and the Alliance will honor her. Probably by naming a warship after her! And I can either run like a coward or go down with mine. But either way and my crew and I will be ridiculed from one end of the Fleet to the other. Hnafir'rau they too will call me and laugh. I feel my face grow hot just thinking about the shame. I can hear my father's scathing voice in my head as clearly as if he were here. _Lotor! You fool! You failure! You worthless weakling! I should have had you thrown in the Pit when you were born!_

 

I cannot fail. I cannot run because there is nowhere to hide. I have no option but to succeed. If I abandon ship and live it will prove my father right. If I die here he will still be right. No! The idea is unthinkable….Unbearable! And I will risk everything and do anything to prove the miserable bastard wrong!

 

"Sir? Should I call to abandon ship?" My second asks.

 

I am outraged! He should listen to me! Not her! This is my bridge! I command here! I glance around at my men and I see their eyes now hold apprehension instead of the admiration of moments ago. They have heard the word mutiny and I see the idea twisting around their minds.

 

"No!" I draw my sword and the lazon hums dangerously. "Nngh!" I growl at all of them and dare them to act on their thoughts. One by one they look away, ashamed of their disloyalty and cowardice.

 

I notice McAllister studying the main visual intensely. On screen are the escape pods that she has sacrificed herself for. They are in formation in lines four across and five deep making a cube shape. They have been slowly and steadily jetting away all this time, moving safely out of range. She has a peculiar expression on her face. It is at once anxious and hopeful. There is more in this for her than a hero's death, something for which she will gladly suffer an indescribable hell.

 

Suddenly it becomes clear why she stayed aboard to see her mission completed. I see the chink in her armor and I set straight for it. I hail the bridge of the Rihan Annsu.

 

 

**Glossary:**

_Hnafir'rau:_ noun, adj. Insult literally meaning wet-nose. Rihan annsu: Name of Lotor's ship. "Shadow-Cast". Referencing the shadow the victor casts over the fallen when they stand over him/her to deliver the killing blow.

 

_Authors Note: The g-cylinder is the device that creates artificial gravity on board the ship. The concept of artificial gravity was explored as early 1930 in science fiction stories. Over the years these ideas from speculative/science fiction have been experimented with by scientists with varying degrees of success. Finally, March 21, 2006 research supported by the European Space Agency (ESA) reported the first non-Newtonian gravitational fields of a measurable magnitude. The successful model of the artificial gravity device was in fact a cylinder with a vacuum chamber which was derisively dismissed as "science fantasy" when first written about in 1931. Thought this was really a cool factoid so I just thought I'd share. Oh, one more thing. I feel the need to reference where I'm getting my Drule vocabulary from. It is actually a bastardized cross of Romulan and Vulcan which I found online at: Tshala "dot" tripod "dot" com "backslash" rom "dash" dict "dot" html_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron/Go Lion or any of their characters. They are the property of WEP and Devil's Due Comic and Toei Animation. All other characters are mine. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and I am not monetarily compensated in any way.**

 

  **Chapter 4**

 

My first officer appears on the screen. "Sir, we've been getting readings—"

"Secure all decks and set a course to intercept the escape pods." I cut him off. There is no time to listen to his questions or explain. I notice McAllister glance at me sharply.

"Sir? Shouldn't you evac?" he asks. "Our scanners indicate that your g-cylinder is—"

"Don't question me! Set a course to intercept! Now!" I shout. I have no patience for giving explanations for my junior officer's approval under the best of circumstances and certainly not now.

There isn't time to evacuate. There isn't even time for the Rihan Annsu to detach and get safely away. The only hope we have to get out of this alive is to take the g-cylinder offline before it collapses. I know there is only one way to get McAllister to co-operate with this plan. And that is to threaten the precious cargo she has tucked aboard one of those escape pods. Right now they are far enough away that if we fired upon them they could easily maneuver as a group and avoid our missiles and laser fire. In addition, their shielding will be far more effective at this distance and will save them from being destroyed from the energy burst of the Highlander's implosion. We must get within range of the escape pods if I wish to hold them hostage and force McAllister's hand. They may have a head start but they do not have the propulsion of a warship. We can catch them in minutes. Which is all we have.

"Sir! I urge you to-!" he stammers. He is afraid for himself, the coward. If we live through this I will make sure he wishes he didn't.

"Do as you're told!" I growl at him.

"Yes, Sir."

 "Execute to Follow."

 "Yes, Sir." He replies.

 I maintain visual of my bridge so I can be sure that he is carrying out my orders without further delay. The plan I have made is enough of a long shot without my authority being questioned at every turn. I call all hands and order all personnel away from the decks connected by the catwalks and to seal off all hatches. The walks are designed for use on stationary vessels and will most likely tear away from both ships once we are under way. The sudden depressurization will wreak havoc on those decks affected but the situation is unavoidable. There is no time to close down and seal off the walks properly. I don't want to think about the damage this will cause to the Rihan Annsu and the Highlander or how I will reconnect the ships once we get through this. I can figure that out later…if we survive.

I rack my brain for any information that might improve our chances. It has turned out to be fortunate that an act of prejudice against my human heritage may just be what saves us. In spite of graduating in the top five percent of my class at the Academy and being recognized as one of the finest pilots in the Supremacy, I spent the first years of my career in the fleet as a bilge rat working in propulsions and engineering of a recovery vessel. Our sole function was the towing of disabled or de-powered ships back to port for repair or re-fitting.

I had always been resentful of that inglorious assignment and felt that it had initially hindered my ability to be promoted. But now I am grateful because it has given me an edge in this improbable disaster. I know my ship alone will not be able to move fast enough to get within range while towing the extra bulk of the carrier. The Highlander will need to be under some of her own power to assist if we are to intercept the pods and have the time needed to negotiate with McAllister. For most of my peers it would be a nightmare to co-ordinate the high thrust movement of two vessels of considerably unequal mass and power, but for me it is as routine as writing my own name.

"Yoi! What have we got over there? Anything?" I ask him. Then I call propulsions.

"This is Sincline do you have the auxiliaries online yet?"

"Uh, no Sir…uh, we were waiting for the over-ride codes." They answer hesitantly. Useless pieces of shit. They will tell me later that they were waiting as per my orders, but right now I don't care. Their blind obedience and lack of initiative may play a part in killing us all.

"Hey Sir! I got bug in here for us. We have the bridge back but we're going to have to divert power from all non-essentials to get it up and running." Yoi says excitedly.

"Good. Can you shut down the power to life support?" I ask hopefully.

"Ah….No Sir. Not yet. I can't shut her off but I can slow her down. Whoever did this is an evil genius."

"How much slower? Can you get into propulsions?" I ask glancing as McAllister's lips press into a thin tight line.

"About ninety seconds." He answers. "Already there. Auxiliaries are on line….now!"

"Outstanding! Transfer control to the bridge." The bridge goes dark except for the glow from the visual and consol lights as I shut down the non-essential systems to funnel power to those we need. Another alarm goes off as the air filtration system shuts down adding to the cacophony of bleats, sirens and dulcet voiced warnings. We have about 20 minutes of breathable air without it. Under the circumstances it may be more than we need.

I move to the navigator's consol. I examine the too familiar instruments and for once I am glad that the Alliance steals our technology every chance they get. I begin setting the intercept course for the pods and adjusting the system for timing precision. We will be upon them in just under six minutes. Including the ninety second gift that Yoi has given us we will have three to spare.

"Yes, Sir. Transferring now."

I hail my bridge. "The Highlander is under her own power and ready to assist. On my mark prepare to engage." I say harnessing myself into the chair as I transfer our coordinates and a link up with the bridge of the Rihan Annsu.

"Received coordinates. Standing ready." My first officer responds.

"You'll still never get within range for effective fire. And even then, you can't take out all of them. You don't have the time." McAllister says smugly.

I ignore her for the moment. She has no idea what I have in mind for her crew or herself. I order my crew to secure McAllister and themselves and prepare for high G thrust. The old lady is not wearing a g-suit and I wonder how well she'll handle the trip, short as it may be. I need her alive. At least for the next nine minutes.

"Three…two…one…engage!" I order and both the Rihan Annsu and the Highlander launch ahead in perfect synchronicity. I am pressed into my chair and I feel the legs and arms of my suit compress to keep the blood from pooling in my extremities. I fight off a wave of dizziness and I wish that I, like my crew, still had my helmet on.

Although it is a short trip, verifiably so by the minute by minute account of the emergency announcement system, it seems to take forever. But at last the cube formation of the escape pods looms large and close in the visual.

I turn to McAllister. The old woman is somewhat beaten up from the trip. Her nose is bleeding and the blood has streaked backward across her cheeks to disappear under her earlobes. Her eyes appear shot with broken blood vessels that will be quite nasty looking if they get a chance to clot.

 "Now will you shut down the G-cylinder?" I ask getting up from my place at the navigation consol and walking over to the command chair gesturing at the consol. She is silent as she uses her hand to wipe at the blood that has dripped down into her mouth and she stares at the visual. Her breath comes in deep gasps. She is in physical pain but I can see her inner torment is worse. She realizes that I have no intention of firing on her pods. I plan to take them out along with us when the field collapses. Her crew and whoever else she has tried to sacrifice herself to protect is now going to share her fate unless she stops it. She has failed in her duty and now she must choose whichever she considers is the lesser of two evils for her crew.

"Which is it, old woman? Death or imprisonment?" I ask taunting her.

"Is there a difference with you people? Imprisonment! Ha! Slavery you mean!" she retorts. "It's worse than death."

"For you or for them?"

"This isn't about me!—"

"Isn't it though? Hmm…?" I switch to Terran and I am rewarded by her startled looked. "What did you think? That you would go down with your ship? That you would bravely sacrifice yourself for your crew and face down the evil Drule invaders alone? Killing all of us practically singlehandedly with your clever trick. Your peers would talk about it for years! Probably name a destroyer after you! See where your conceit has gotten you?" I continue baiting her in her own language. I can see her conflict and I know she will break.

"You idiot boy! This is you and your arrogance! You would kill everyone! Mine and yours for your pride!" She is not shouting but her voice carries the resonance of command. It is a fair argument and not without merit but we are out of time and she is out of options. I know it and she knows it.

"No. Not me. You. You will kill them. With your stubbornness. Live or die you and yours are defeated by some hnafir'rau Drule. Now choose…will you send them through hell so you don't have to live with the guilt of your failure? Or will you let those who can, be ransomed and talk about your bravery in the face of the enemy?" I ask, forcing my tone to be conversational and betray none of the rising panic I feel. I know that preserving her reputation is not her reason for indecision. And that she is not thinking about the fate of her entire crew in these agonizingly quick passing moments. But just the one among them that is her whole reason for living. I don't know how I know this but I do. Just as I know firsthand that a mother will do anything to protect her child.

She unfastens her harness and stands shakily as the emergency countdown switches from minutes to seconds. "You will ransom them, then? Do I have your word? The pledge of a _Dai'semi ri Hru'hfirh hlai_?" she asks.

"Yes. All those that can be. You have my word as _Dai'semi_." I answer impressed that she has enough knowledge of our culture to request that I do so.

"And you? Do you offer _rh'tanni_?" she asks my second.

 _"Au'e s'uai tanni_." He gives the traditional response and nods. She walks unsteadily to the command consol where I am standing as the seconds slip away.

"Move!" she barks and I jump and brace to attention like the junior officer I no longer am. I both annoyed and amazed that throughout all of this she has lost none of her bearing or authority. I find myself envying her for it.

She re-inserts the XO card and her fingers flicker over the keypad. She types quickly. Faster than Yoi who watches her in rapt attention. There is a system wide power surge and the lights and air filters come back on for a moment. She curses softly as they go back out and types several codes in rapid succession. I watch as she enters her password, hits the repeat bar three times and waits. Then there is a pressure wave and a marked decrease in gravity as the emergency system counts 19 seconds to failure then stops.

Small, unsecured objects begin floating and it takes me a moment to realize that it is over. There is stunned silence among my crew as the alarms cease and now the emergency system announces the loss of gravity and issues instructions to stow non essential items and to change into survival gear.

I exchange incredulous looks with my crew. We are alive! There will be no massive energy burst to announce my failure to the galaxy. In fact, I have won. Again. Really won this time. I let out a shout of triumph and relief! I am joined in celebration by my crew on here and on the Rihan Annsu.

The lights on the bridge flicker on and other functions return one at a time as the system reboots itself, except for the gravity which remains offline. I look around and see the blasters and packs carried by my crew floating away from their bodies and I realize that the only thing holding my men and I down are the magnetized soles of our boots. Anything that has not been fastened down is adrift. Including poor little Captain McAllister. She is slightly bent over the command consol clutching the edge and has a toe hooked under the foot rest. It is as undignified a position as the Captain can find herself in. I know it is very ungentlemanly to gloat. But I do anyway.

 

**Glossary:**

 

 _Dai'semi:_ noun, Prince or noble lord Hru'hfirh hlai: noun, Father's noble house Rh'tanni: noun, formal witness of a pledge; surety that promise will be honored

 

 _Au'e s'uai tanni:_ trans. "Yes, I bear witness."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron/Go Lion or any of their characters. They are the property of WEP and Devil's Due Comic and Toei Animation. All other characters are mine. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and I am not monetarily compensated in any way.**

 

**Rites of Passage**

 

**Chapter 5**

She lowers herself into the seat in a practiced motion obviously learned in the early years of Alliance space exploration, before their ships had artificial gravity. I frown in annoyance as she buckles herself in and settles down securely in the captain's chair.

I reach down and unfasten the harness and she glares at me.

"What are you-?" she starts to ask.

"Get out of my chair. You are not the Captain anymore." I tell her taking her by the arm as she drifts up off the seat. She grips the side of the console with her other hand. Her mouth opens and closes and she looks away from me for a moment then lowers her head in resignation and is silent.

She is still bleeding and her blood is forming little round globes as it lifts off her face and floats in the air around her. I call the meds over.

"Here. She's sprung a leak. I need her patched up and clean." I say as I hand her over. He takes her arm and guides her over to an open chair and fastens her down.

"Sir? We're being hailed by the one of the pods. Says he's First Officer of the Highlander." My second tells me.

"He can wait. Get me the damage report on the Highlander." I say glancing at McAllister's bloody face. I need her to inform her crew that she has surrendered and that they are my prisoners. The sight of her in this condition is not likely to inspire them to co-operate with us.

"Yoi, check the systems for any other surprises." I order.

I hail the Rihan Annsu to check on the condition of my ship. "This is Sincline. I need a damage report, over."

It comes and I learn both of the remaining catwalks have collapsed and damaged multiple decks. Including some berthing and prison bays. My crew is now trying to seal off and re-pressurize them while trying to contain several fires. I order them to report with the final estimate when the fires are out. The Highlander has sustained far less structural damage than my ship but even so large portions of several decks have been destroyed. It's a disaster, but at least we all will live through it.

Well, most of us, I think, as I look back at McAllister. She looks terrible.

My meds has her holding a piece of gauze under her nose but it is already soaking through. He's cleaned up the blood on her cheeks and neck, but I can see that it has stained the collar and epilates of her uniform tunic. Thankfully it is a dark blue fabric and will not be obvious on the visual. I only hope that she will not collapse while I still need her.

"What is that?" She asks the medic as he attempts to administer something in a syringe.

"It's a coagulant. It will stop you from bleeding all over everything." He replies with a sour expression. He has no love of the Alliance and I think he would rather let her bleed to death.

"I know what a coagulant does! Have you even treated a human before?" she snaps at him.

"Yes. Many. My first post was at _Dai'athyra_. Interrogations."

" Lovely. Watch your dosage. I'm a female." She says as she eyes the syringe.

"I noticed. We had plenty of those there too." He replies smirking as her eyes widen in outrage.

Content that she will live I turn my attention back to the bridge. I have quite a dilemma now that I have avoided defeat and certain death. I have to figure out how to survive victory.

I have now a crew of 850 personnel and nearly three times that many prisoners that will need to be brought under control, fed, housed and kept healthy. I had planned to use the Highlander to hold her crew after I had them in custody. Keep them in their own prison bays and tow the ship until I could rendezvous with another Drule vessel and transfer them over to the Supremacy for processing. Of course that was before the g-cylinder went off-line and both ships were nearly destroyed.

While the Highlander has plenty of room for both my crew and prisoners it has no gravity. And my ship that has lost nearly all of her berths. I have no choice but to move most of my crew over to the Highlander. Normally this would be helpful in keeping the prisoners in check, but unless the g-cylinder can be brought back online, it will be an uncomfortable trip back to Supremacy shipping lanes.

But first things first, I have to get the prisoners onboard to the Highlander. Somehow I have to co-ordinate the movement of twenty one escape vessels filled with thousands of hostiles into the hanger bay without using deadly force. Then I will have to figure out what to do with them until we can restore gravity. That is, if we can restore gravity. My previous experience with humans tells me that nothing will be as easy as it sounds. Hopefully having McAllister as a hostage will help.

"Sir?" My meds calls for my attention. "I've got the bleeding stopped." I look over and McAllister, while she is not the tidy picture of an Alliance fleet officer that she was when we first met, she is at least presentable.

"Good. I was getting hungry." I say. It's true. The smell of blood in the air is strong and becoming distracting.

"Yes, sir. Me too." He says and a few of my crew nod in agreement.

"Disgusting creatures." McAllister grimaces and shoots me a scowl. I smile flashing my canines at her in response.

"Relax, Captain, you're much too gristly. We prefer younger, more tender….delicacies." I taunt her and I am immediately rewarded when her face drains of color. She understands my implication completely.

"Hail the crew of the Highlander." I order my second as I walk over and stand behind her.

"You are to tell them that you have surrendered and they are my prisoners. And that the terms of the surrender include that they will be ransomed if they behave themselves and killed if they do not. Nothing else. Any more tricks and I will slice off your head. But not before I make you watch those pods get shot down one at a time. Do you understand?" I ask as I draw my sword and hold it in front of her throat.

"Yes." She nods.

"Captain-!" The Highlander's First Officer starts and then falls silent as he registers the image of his Captain with a lazon sword at her throat on his visual. "You bastards! If you've hurt her, I swear I'll—I'll-!" he regains his voice and uses it to issue an incomplete threat.

"Lieutenant Mendoza! I assure you I am fine and I have been well treated." She says cutting him off before he can continue his tirade. "I have surrendered to Commander Sincline of the Drule Supremacy's Fourth fleet in exchange for the lives of the crew. He has promised that his intention is to hold the crew for ransom."

" _Senora, no les creas! Que estan mintiendo los animales!"_ He says switching to a human language I've never heard before. I warned her no tricks! I bring the humming blade close up under her chin and she instinctively draws back from the heat.

"Lieutenant! Enough! You will speak in Trade only. Commander Sincline has also promised me that if any of you cause any trouble you will all be killed. I would like to address the crew now. Please hail them immediately." She orders, maintaining her glacial calm.

"Aye, Aye, Ma'am." He acknowledges. A few moments later he nods and says "They are ready."

"Crew of the Highlander, this is your Captain speaking. It is with deep regret that I inform you that I have negotiated the surrender of the Highlander to Commander Sincline of the Drule Supremacy's Fourth fleet.

"It is my command that you lay down your arms and take no actions that will result in the harmful retaliation of the enemy against yourselves or your fellows. I know that this will require all of your training and test both your physical and moral courage to their limits. I have the upmost confidence that you will not only be able to endure these trials but also prevail. The terms of surrender dictate that you will be not sold into slavery but be held for ransom only and returned unharmed to your families. Commander Sincline, who is also the Crown Prince of Korrinoth, has given me the pledge of his noble house that these terms will be honored." She pauses a moment and sits up a little straighter in her chair.

"I want you all to know I bear the full responsibility for this terrible circumstance and that you have been—one-one of the finest crews I have had under my command. Do not lose heart as I have not and I will continue to do all I can to ensure your swift return home. " She finishes and I sheath my sword and nod for my second to cut the communications. The screen goes abruptly goes to star-scape and McAllister drops her shoulders with a ragged breath.

In spite of myself I feel a pang sympathy for her. We Drules may not admire much about humans but we admire courage whenever we see it. She has been a worthy foe and has never lost her dignity. I hope I never know what she is feeling right now.

I order her removed from the bridge and sent to the brig for a second and final time. I am about to relent and confine her to quarters instead, when she stops at the door, turns to me and says "Sincline, don't congratulate yourself too much. She isn't a carrier anymore, you know? The Highlander was refitted six months ago. She's a Blunder Bus."

"A-a what?" I ask.

She smiles at my confusion. "A transport vessel for boot cadets that still have to finish their specialty training." She turns away as her guards nudge her to move on.

I watch as she leaves, rationalizing what she has just told me. Not a carrier? A transport vessel? A—what did she call it? A Blunder Bus? Regardless, the Highlander is still a substantial prize for the monetary value of the vessel itself and the human cargo. But for some reason I am left feeling like she has just taken the meat off my dinner plate.

Scowling I turn my attention back to the bridge. The enormous amount of work I still have to do threatens to overwhelm me. I remember being resentful of my commanders before, thinking how easy it is to be able to issue orders while others do all the work. As I moved up in rank I realized that authority brings with it as many burdens as privileges. I still had yet to learn the amount of sacrifice that true leadership requires. I take a moment to prioritize what needs my immediate attention and then begin issuing orders myself.

I tell my second to hail any nearby Supremacy vessels and request emergency assistance. I have no doubt that the Alliance has warships already en-route at full power to rescue the Highlander. There is no way I could even begin to defend against an attack at this point. If I hadn't destroyed the jump port they would more than likely be here already and I would be the one negotiating for the lives of my crew. Luckily we are in Supremacy territory and there are bound to be a few ships within a several light minutes of us. Even so it will be a race to see if ours or the Alliance will get to us first. The sooner I can get underway the better.

"Yoi? Any chance we can get the g-cylinder back on line?" I ask.

"Uh, Sir, I don't know. I'll have to run a diagnostic, but first I have to get back in the system again." He answers hesitantly.

"Get started. And check everything else while you're at it."

" Yes, sir." He answers.

Then I hail my two fighter squadrons which have been on standby since I took over the Highlander. I order them to rendezvous with the escape pods and to escort them back to the Highlander on my order. I want them in place when I address the prisoners to let them know that escape is impossible and they have no options left except to be taken into custody.

My first officer hails me with the final damage report from the _Rihan Anssu._ The fires are finally out. There have been seven killed and sixteen wounded not counting those that were lost or injured taking the Highlander. I ask him about the cargo areas and he informs me that they are intact but the general air quality of the lower decks is very poor because of the smoke and other toxic fumes. The scrubbers should have it breathable in about twelve hours. I order him to make arrangements to set up temporary berthing areas in them as soon as possible. My crew is going to be working non-stop rotations getting both ships underway and keeping the prisoners under guard. They are going to need a place to rest between shifts, even if it is for just a few hours.

Now I have to figure out what to do with the Highlander's crew. I decide that best solution is to tractor the pods into the hanger bay and dock them there. The prisoners are just going to have to stay on board the pods until the gravity can be restored. There is no way I can have over two thousand humans floating around in prison bays. It would be a security nightmare. Not to mention a sanitation one as well. The pods will not be much better, but at least the prisoners will be safely contained albeit a bit cramped.

"Sir, we've received a response from _Kahs'Khiori Nehru._ " My second tells me. My relief is palpable. I actually I feel some of the weight lift off my shoulders. The super dreadnought is one of a massive class of warships designed to stay in space and act as a mobile base for expedition units. It is literally the size of a small city. It will have more than enough size and the fire power to escort us safely as we limp back to port.

"Excellent! Get them on screen."

"Rihan Annsu, this is Ensign Shaley of the _Kahs'Khoiri Nehru_. What is your emergency?" The young man on the other screen sounds bored and he is looking down at something on his consol. He is obviously in the middle of a tedious shift sending and receiving routine communications.

"This is Commander Sincline of the _Rihan Annsu_ hailing from the captured Alliance ship Highlander." I answer curtly and his head snaps up. His look of surprise as he sees me on his visual and the unfamiliar Alliance bridge in the background is almost comical. Now, I've got his attention.

"My ship, the _Rihan Annsu_ has been damaged in battle and the Highlander's main propulsion is out and she's lost her g-cylinder. I've got over two thousand human prisoners and no place to put them. We require your immediate assistance." I tell him enjoying the look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, Sir! I'll alert the Captain immediately! Please stand by." He says and the screen goes blank as he notifies his Captain.

We are hailed almost immediately but it is not the Captain of the _Kahs'Khiori Nehru_. It's the First Officer of the Highlander. I disregard it. My fighter squadrons have reached the pods and surrounded them. He is obviously worried about what I have in mind. As far as I'm concerned he can sweat it out for a while longer. I tell my second to jam their transmissions.

"Hey, Sir? I'm finished with the diagnostic." I hear Yoi call me. I'm mildly annoyed at his interruption, but he has yet to waste my time.

"Go ahead."

"Um, there's an internal problem with the propulsions system, looks like they didn't finish reprogramming the computer when they switched to the new system. That's why it failed when they tried to jump and she went adrift. The coils are fried. The only reason the auxiliary works is because it's original. It doesn't look any better for the g-cylinder either. The bearings are shot and the saucer seal has lost integrity. I wouldn't even try to bring it back online. But everything else is good to go." He finishes optimistically.

"Ngh." I growl and shake my head. It's not what I wanted to hear. I'm not as irritated about the propulsions as I am about the gravity. Ships are no longer designed to function without it. Basic functions like plumbing and food preparation are impossible. Floating debris will be everywhere undoubtedly causing dozens of eye injuries. While on board the Highlander, we will be in the same survival mode as our prisoners. Stuck in our flight suits unable to wash and eating rations out of vacuum sealed pouches. Prolonged zero gravity has serious physical-side effects as well. It is a bad situation. I worry about the impact this will have on my crew's moral and health.

"This is the _Kahs'Khiori Nehru_ hailing Commander Sincline onboard the Highlander." It's Ensign Shaley.

"This is Sincline."

"Sir, I'm going to transfer you to Captain Quarq now." The visual flickers and an image of the _Kahs'Khiori's_ Captain appears. He is a fierce looking man with pronounced knobby brow ridges and the darker red-gold eyes common of people from the Old Kingdoms. I can see he is in his private quarters wearing his dressing robe. I suspect, somewhat regretfully, that my emergency has interrupted his recreational activities.

"Commander Sincline, this is Captain Quarq. What are your co-ordinates?" He asks me.

I tell him and I see him forward the information to the bridge.

"I'm sending four squadrons ahead as protective escort and I've already alerted High Command to advise boarder patrols of approaching Alliance ships. Now, tell me what the hell is going on over there?" He looks angry. Very angry.

Suddenly, I think that attacking the carrier might not have been such a good idea. I feel as if I have just been summoned to my father's throne room. My mouth runs dry and I can't think of a damn thing to say.

 

**Glossary:**

 

 **Dai' athyra** \- Drule military prison infamous for its systematic use of excessive and creative torture to encourage compliance and extract information from prisoners.

 

 **Kahs Khiori Nehru** _-( female)_ name of the Super Dreadnought that responds to Lotor's emergency call. Literal translation "Ascending Sun" Has multiple meanings. Used here in reference to the larger and first rising double sun of the home planet of the Third Kingdom. Also the name of the goddess of victory. One who eternally triumphs over all others. Can be loosely translated in Terran as "the first light bringer."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron/Go Lion or any of their characters. They are the property of WEP, Devil's Due Comics and Toei Animation. All other characters are. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and I am not monetarily compensated in any way.**

 

**Chapter 6**

 

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Well? Sincline, what the hell is that carrier doing in our territory?" Quarq asks again. I can tell he is not a man used to repeating himself.

"Oh, um…Well Sir, we're not exactly sure yet." I begin. It's not really a lie because I still haven't had an opportunity to verify if what McAllister has told me about her personnel transport mission is true. "We were patrolling the boundary line when we picked up an Alliance propulsion signature. We traced it and discovered the Highlander past the DMZ and well within our territory. When she saw us she ran and we gave chase to intercept her before she could reach the jump port—"

"You chased a Remington class carrier in a cruiser? Why?" He interrupts me. He is truly angry.

I swallow deeply and focus on maintaining my bearing. A part of me resents his questioning because I feel he should be praising me for my victory instead of deriding my decision making. I almost want to ask him what he thinks I should have done. Inform them they are trespassing and politely ask them to leave? Perhaps offer them a safe escort back to Alliance territory? They had committed a clear violation of the recent cease fire agreement made for the Khoural Quadrant and I was well within the current rules of engagement when I ordered the attack. But I hold my tongue. He is thinking of the risk I put my crew and my mission in and by extension the Supremacy. But he didn't see what I saw and he doesn't know why I was so sure I could take the carrier.

"Sir, it was because she ran. There was no reason for a Remington Class carrier to run from us, none at all, except that there was something wrong on board that ship that made the captain fear us enough to order a retreat. So I gave the order to attack and now I have the ship in my possession and all two thousand one hundred of her crew in my custody." I tell him trying to keep it as brief as possible. There is a small chime indicating an attempted hail from the pods. They have found a way around our block. My second looks over at me and I shake my head give a hand signal to indicate to continue ignoring them.

"I see." He nods as he thinks about what I said. "She ran? Eh? Tough call. Why didn't you request reinforcements?"

"I didn't think I'd need them, Sir." I answer honestly without thinking. I cringe inside as I wait for the dressing down that my cockiness is sure to get me. To my surprise he replies with a bark of laughter then the visual goes dark and the communication is interrupted by the Highlander's first officer. They have hacked into our system. The urge to call fire on him is strong and I am barely able to suppress it.

"Commander Sincline-!" he starts and is cut off immediately by my second switching channels.

"Get the _Kahs'Khiori Nehru_ back now!" I shout at him. My second has already started hailing them.

Ensign Shaley's image appears on the visual.

"This is Commander Sincline, Captain Quarq and I were disconnected. Tell him I am standing by at his leisure."

Several moments pass before Shaley hails to reconnect me with Quarq. I am seething at the impudence of the Alliance's First Officer. What was his name? Mendoza.

"My apologies Sir, we are experiencing some trouble with our communications system." I explain.

"I see. Two thousand human prisoners, you say? All military?" he asks furrowing his brow and stroking his chin with a finger.

"Yes, Sir."

"You have them secured on board the Highlander?"

"No, Sir, not yet. They are still their in escape pods. We are escorting them back to the ship as I speak to you." I answer not sure how much I should explain.

"Escape pods? Ngh!" He frowns.

There is another hailing chime and my second curses as the visual flickers and we almost lose communications for a second time. It's Mendoza again. What is so important that he insists on bothering me when he has been told repeatedly to maintain communications silence? I nod at my second to receive the message and tell Mendoza to stand by.

"Apologies, Sir." I say

"Sounds like you've got your hands full over there so I'll cut this short. Give us a ping every ten thousand clicks so we can confirm the rendezvous point. I expect a full report when you come aboard. Get them secured and get your asses away from that jump port as fast as possible. You don't need any more trouble with Alliance warships." He says.

"Oh, no worries, Sir! I destroyed the jump port." I tell him.

"You did what?" He pauses for a moment. "Oh, never mind…just put it in the report." He shakes his head and I can't tell if he's grimacing or grinning.

Why can't I just keep my mouth shut? I guess it doesn't matter, they were going to find out eventually. Maybe it isn't as bad as I think. It wasn't even one of ours.

"Yes, Sir." I answer and the screen goes to starscape. I have a feeling that Quarq is going to put a boot in my ass when I get onboard the _Kahns'Khori._

"That went well." I comment to my second sarcastically.

"Ngh. Yes, Sir." He grunts in response. I can tell that he is reluctant to speak his mind which is unlike him. I sense a morale issue brewing.

"What's that Alliance officer's fucking problem?" I ask getting back to business.

"He says there's a malfunction with the life support on some of the pods. The air scrubbers aren't working properly." He answers.

Shit. My plan to keep the humans aboard the pods may have to be revised. "Ngh!" I growl in frustration and shake my head. Does nothing on this fucking ship work?

"Is he still on stand by?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get him onscreen." I order.

Almost immediately Lieutenant Mendoza appears on the visual. "Commander Sincline, it's about time-" He starts to berate me but I am completely out of patience with him.

"Listen human, first of all, you will address me as Sir. Second, you are very lucky that you're worth more alive than dead, because if you weren't I would have killed you by now. And I still might." I tell him I and I mean every word. The idea of shooting down the malfunctioning pods is enticing. Especially if this Lieutenant Mendoza is on one of them.

I see his jaw clench and he swallows deeply before he replies "Yes, Sir. Please accept my apologies for my rudeness."

I am somewhat mollified by his humility and his ready acceptance of my authority. "My second officer informs me that you have life support system problems?"

"The scrubbers on three of the pods have gone down completely and four others, including the one I'm in, are working at less than sixty-five percent."

"I assume the crew in the three pods without air are wearing survival suits? How much air do they have?" I ask hoping that he will tell me that they have recirculation filters like we do. He doesn't.

"They have about eight hours left, Sir." He answers.

"That's it?" I ask in amazement. Eight hours of air left in their suits means that I can't keep them in the pods unless I want them to die of suffocation. Three hundred and sixty prisoners is a lot of revenue to lose. And then there's the additional problem of the other malfunctioning pods. I wonder how long until those fail and I lose another five or six hundred.

"Yes, Sir. I'm afraid so. I was hoping that we could rearrange the cue so that the affected vessels could dock first." He asks.

"Yes, I was going to suggest that myself. But we have a slight problem here that I'm sure you're aware of. The Highlander has no gravity so even if those pods dock first, I'm afraid the crew will have to remain on board until we can reach port." I tell him. He looks surprised.

"What? You can't be serious? We'll die!"

"Oh, I am serious. Unless you have another suggestion?" I ask him thinking that he has more pressing interest in solving this problem than I do.

"Um, yes Sir, I do."

"I'm listening."

"Um, I thought that the Highlander crew could be divided up between the fully functioning vessels until the g-cylinder could be brought back online? He says.

I'm mildly impressed. "That is actually a good idea, human. Except that the g-cylinder cannot be brought online." I tell him.

"Uh, what are we supposed to do then?" he asks.

"You'll do whatever I tell you to do, human." I tell him and signal for the transmission to end. I decide to go with his suggestion of dividing the crew among the functioning vessels. They will be very uncomfortable, but that is not my problem. I don't need them happy. I just need them alive and in relatively good health.

"Sir? We received a transmission from the fighters sent to intercept that Alliance pilot. They've got her and they're on their way back." My second informs me.

"Excellent." Finally, something has worked out as I planned.

While we wait for the pods I use the opportunity to check in with my fire teams. I order them to secure the ship and continue with their deck by deck checks. I really don't believe they will find anything, but one thing I'm now certain of is that it is nothing will be as I expect it. Then I send my flight crews to the hanger bay to get it ready. They will be docking with the damaged pods first. How they are going to move the prisoners off of those vessels and onto the working ones in zero gravity is a problem I leave for the officer in charge.

"Yoi, I need you to get me the crew manifest. Send a copy to the Rihann Anssu. " I order more harshly than I intended. I need to get a confirmed head count of how many prisoners are actually coming aboard and begin sorting and cataloguing them according to gender, age and physical conformation.

I'm becoming short tempered and a little light headed and I realize that I haven't had anything to eat since before I made contact with the Highlander. That was over sixteen hours ago. I look around and think that my fire team has not eaten in nearly that long either. They must be starving as well. I order a dinner break. I feel a little guilty because I should thought of them sooner. I make sure that everyone has their rations and then I wait until they finish. Officers eat last.

While my men have their dinner of the Supremacy's finest vacuum sealed mush. I sit at the command console and start going over the manifest that Yoi has downloaded. There are two thousand five hundred and sixty eight crew members aboard the Highlander not excluding the ones that were killed when we came aboard. I notice something odd in the ratio. There are a disproportionally large number of females aboard. Normally the ratio is about 1:16 of females to males but on the Highlander its 1:4.

Additionally, the median age of the crew is twenty three. The vast majority of them are either junior enlisted or second lieutenants. McAllister wasn't lying. This was indeed a transport mission.

Then what were they doing so close to Supremacy territory? There isn't an Alliance base for at least three months travel in the opposite direction. They must have made a navigation error during one of their jumps.

"Sir, we're ready for duty." My second says to let me know that they've finished eating. I unsnap one of my utility pockets and pull out a polyfoil pouch of field rations and read the label. It's spiced bionet. I hate bionet. I could snap the burn bar at the bottom and it would create a chemical interaction in the packaging which would heat it up, but it wouldn't make it taste any less like kheti shit. And I'm so hungry that I don't want to wait.I tear the top open and start eating it cold while I look for a record for the flight plan to see where they were headed before they ended up here. I dig around my pocket again for something to drink. I wash the aftertasteout of my mouth with Senay, the purple flavor. I'm not sure if it's an improvement.

We receive a transmission from the fighter escort for the pods. They are finally here but they are not ready to dock because they haven't finished rearranging themselves in proper order. I'm not surprised. I shake my head in wonder that the human species, a disorganized angry mob of creatures, has managed to stymie the Supremacy's efforts to subjugate them for so long.

They are finally ready to dock. I was beginning to suspect that they trying to take as much time as possible hoping that they might be rescued. Again it seems to take forever to get all the pods in the hanger and secured. The crew chief informs me that they have started transferring the prisoners. And then there's a problem. What a surprise.

"Hangar bay to Bridge." The OIC, or officer in charge hails my on the comm.

"This is Sincline. Go ahead."

"Sir, we managed to get the prisoners repositioned in the functioning pods, but we can't leave them in there. They don't really fit." He tells me.

"What do you mean they don't fit?" I ask him. We must get underway!

"Sir, they won't physically fit into the pods unless they are standing front to back. There's not even six inches between them." He tells me and I hear the frustration in his voice.

"Understood. Execute to follow." I reply. I'm at a loss for what to do. He's right we can't keep the prisoner's standing literally packed together for the four or so days it will take to rendezvous with _Kash'Khoiri Nehru_. I don't care about their comfort, but their health. If they become sick they will lose value. This should not even be an issue. The scanners only showed about one hundred twenty bodies on board. There should be more than enough room on the pods to double up.

My vision wavers for a moment and I recognize it as a symptom of an approaching migraine.

Then I receive a transmission from the fighters that are bringing in the Alliance pilot. They are here too. I order them to take her aboard the Rihan Anssu and secure her in isolation in the brig. I give special instructions that no matter what she does to provoke them; they are to leave her to me. I am looking forward to meeting this young woman. I call back to the fighters and ask them to send over her identifying information.

"Gar'ein, hail Lieutenant Mendoza." I order my second.

A moment later Mendoza's sweaty face appears on the visual and he waits for me to address him.

"Human, my officer tells me that there's not enough room in the pods to hold all of you. I have decided that the three hundred prisoners that will not fit in the pods will be brought aboard my ship. I'm leaving it up to you to decide who stays and who goes." I tell him. "You have ten minutes." He opens his mouth to speak but I end the transmission. I couldn't care less what he has to say.

I return to the crew manifest and continue examining the results of the sorting program. I am pleased with what I am seeing so far. This crew is literally worth more than their weight in gold to me. As the commander of the Rihan Anssu I will receive ten percent to the total value of any captured ship plus it's cargo. When I told McAllister that I would ransom them I meant it. It makes no difference to me whether they are sold as slaves or ransomed since the price will be the same. Military vessels are particularly profitable because their crews are typically young, healthy, physically fit and already pre-conditioned to obey orders. I am especially happy that this ship has so many females on board. They are still a rarity in many parts of the Supremacy and as such the owning of human female slaves has become a significant status symbol. I doubt any will be going home unless they are the daughters of kings.

My crew chief hails me from the hanger and tells me that there is yet another problem on the pods. Apparently the prisoners held some sort of lottery to decide who would be taken aboard the Rihan Annsu. Some of those who won don't want to be separated and they refuse to leave.

I have had enough of this. We must get underway. We have been contacted twice by our escort. I have left instructions to say that we are experiencing technical difficulties. I don't want to lie but I can't risk complete candor without looking like the incompetent idiot that my father says I am.

I glance at the crew manifest and an idea comes to me. I will just take three hundred of the female prisoners aboard the _Rihan Annsu._ I was going to have to segregate them anyway. Although I have lost much of the berthing areas on my ship, over four hundred of my crew are aboard the Highlander. I'm sure that once I inform my first officer that I will be transferring female prisoners he will find a place for them. Even if he has to keep some in his own suite.

I tell my second to get the manifests from each of the pods and them to forward them to me. I plan on creating a roster by cross referencing them with the female personnel records.

It will take several minutes before the information is gathered and the download is ready so I begin checking the ratings on the prisoners. Our sorting program uses the pictures and other indentifying information in the personnel files to calculate the degree of facial symmetry, as well as body composition. The theory is the higher the degree of symmetry the healthier and more attractive the prisoner and the more money they're worth. As I look at the top rated prisoners I sense my luck changing. As well as being young, the crew of the Highlander is also disproportionately attractive.

I receive the download and just as I'm about to exit the bridge for the hanger bay we are hailed by one of the pods. I wonder what the problem will be this time.

"I need to speak to whoever's in charge." A young male appears on the visual.

"Who are you?" my second asks.

"Second Lieutenant Robert Neilson. Are you the commander?"

"I am Commander Sincline. What do you want, human?"

He hesitates for a second then says "Sir, we were informed that we were being moved because the Highlander's g-cylinder is non-functioning. It is Alliance policy that replacement parts for all essent-"

"Human, do you have a point?" I cut him off.

"Uh, yes, Sir. We can fix the g-cylinder." He says quickly.

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Um, reasonably so. We'll have to see it in person, but—"

"We?" I interrupt him again.

"There's three of us that are engineers from life support here. Well, actually just myself and-"

"Good. I'll tell my officer to arrange for you to do just that." I say and end transmission. I hope he's telling the truth. If the g-cylinder can be brought back online most of my problems will be solved.

I hail my first officer and apprise him of the situation. He is not as enthusiastic as I had hoped and I'm now certain that there are morale issues aboard the Highlander as well. I think to improve it I should make the women available to my crew for recreation when we finally stand down. I'm glad that I took the time to sort the prisoners. I know exactly which ones I'm taking with me.

"Hey, Yoi! What was that pilot's name?" I ask. I'm curious to see what she looks like.

"Ahh…Lorn. Lieutenant Amanda Lorn." He says.

I'm mildly disappointed. I was hoping it would be McAllister. But I run it anyway and I'm stunned. The obscenity spewing bitch that tried to kill me is beautiful. She has startling green eyes and tawny skin. I can't see her hair because it's pulled tightly back in one of those ugly knots that human women seem to think are flattering, but it looks light in color. Yes, I'm definitely dealing with her myself.

 

**Glossary:**

 

 **Bionet:** a meal made out of legumes and bone marrow with a some what gelatinous consistency. Usually heavily spiced.

 

 **Kehti:** small furred four legged animal native to Korrinoth similar to a coyote but without a tail.

 

 **Senay:** a popular brand of soft drink in the Supremacy that has a contract to supply the military. Comes in a variety of fruit flavors.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron/Go Lion or any of their characters. They are the property of WEP and Devil's Due Comic and Toei Animation. All other characters are mine. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and I am not monetarily compensated in any way.**

 

Author's note: This chapter contains trigger material with mention of sexual assault and violent situations. Reader discretion is advised.

 

**Chapter 7**

 

I close out the image of the pilot and focus on the task at hand. I have to get those prisoners moved and secured.

I make my list of transfer prisoners by simply taking the names for the highest rated female prisoners listed from one to three hundred. Near the top I notice the surname McAllister and I feel a momentary thrill. I knew the captain was trying to protect someone and I was hoping it would be a daughter. Then I to my disappointment I see that it's actually Captain McAllister. I'm more than a little surprised that the old lady has made it into the top percentages. The program did not exclude her because of her age, proving that the intelligence of machines will never be able to completely replace that of living beings. Still, I order her to be brought aboard the _Rihan Anssu_ with the other women.

I hail my OIC, or officer in charge, in the hanger bay and tell him that I want all the prisoners removed from the pods, divided by gender and assembled for inspection. Also that Lieutenant Robert Nielsen and his engineers are to be located and set apart.

I exit the bridge taking three of my fire team with me that have been standing idle since we took over command. They are infantry and unlike Yoi and my second they have little training in the running of shipboard command center. However, the managing of prisoners is well within their skill set. I wonder how they will react to see so many human females gathered in one place. I know that many of my crew have never even seen one themselves. Except, perhaps, when viewing pornography. I hope that it doesn't prove to be too distracting.

As we ride the lift down to the hanger bay I hail my first officer ordering him to send three shuttles to the Highlander for prisoner transport. I also inform him that I and what is left of my three fire teams that I initially boarded with will be returning to the _Rihan Annsu_ and that he will be the executive officer of the Highlander in my absence. He does not sound happy about having to spend the next four days in survival gear in zero gravity. I'm irritated by his pique. Did he really think I forgot about his hesitation to act on my orders during my struggle to save our lives and this mission? Discomfort is a small price to pay for his cowardice and disloyalty during my ordeal with McAllister's sabotage.

We finally reach the hanger and the prisoners are still assembling. The two groups form haphazard lines three deep along the walk ways in front of the docked pods. At least the males and females are separated as I asked. I look around in annoyance for the OIC.

My headache is getting worse and it's hard not to be distracted by the pain. I want to ask the meds if he has something for it, but I don't want to show weakness in front of my men.

"What's the problem?" I ask him. "We were supposed to be underway over an hour ago. I told you to hurry."

"Yes, sir." He says.

I don't want to begin to separate the women who will board the _Rihan Annsu_ until they are all assembled and I have the men secured back aboard the pods. I think once they know what I'm planning it might incite chaos. I order seven fire teams to the hanger to maintain order just in case.

"Hey, look!" I hear one of mine say then he start laughing and points up. The other two follow his gaze and laugh as well. I glare at them and they recover their bearing.

Then I look to see what is so funny and to my surprise there are three Alliance prisoners floating freely, flailing aimlessly around in the zero gravity about one hundred and fifty feet up. I look at my OIC incredulously. "What the hell are they doing up there?"

"Sir, there was a fight on one of the gangways and in the scuffle a few lost their footing and went airborne. We got a hold of two of them but these others broke loose and started climbing. I thought it best to leave them up there for the time being."

"Climbing?" I ask, shaking my head. Where did they think they were going? Stupid humans.

I'm about to tell him to forget about them when the Master Sergeant in charge of security walks up with three prisoners. Two male and one female. He braces to attention when he sees me.

"Sir, these are the engineers you asked for." He tells me.

"Which one of you is Nielsen?" I ask looking at the group. Actually I'm looking at the female as are the rest of the men present. I am suddenly very aware of her in a way I wasn't of McAllister. She is young and fertile and practically oozing pheromones. And they are much more distracting than McAllister's blood. She is small with bright auburn hair and light brown eyes. Her freckled face has gone pale with fear because she is just as aware of the attention she is attracting.

"I am Lieutenant Nielsen. And this is my crew chief ensign Perry. " One says gesturing to the woman. "And this is ensign—"

"Good. What equipment do you need to fix the g-cylinder?" I ask still staring at the woman called Perry. It has been a long float and, aside from McAllister, I haven't seen a female of any kind in over six months. I tear my eyes away from her and fix them on the young man I now recognize from the visual.

"We just need to get to engineering and life support. Everything we need is down there." He says.

"Take them where they need to go. Keep me updated on their progress. Send word to the bridge as well." I order the three I brought with me. I catch myself staring at the female again and order my OIC to accompany them. I don't know if I can trust them around that female engineer long enough for her to get her work done.

They start to escort the prisoners away and one of mine is standing far too close to the girl. He reaches out and puts a hand on her back to coax her when she hesitates. She jumps ahead and other human male drops behind her protectively. This could be trouble.

"Don't even think about it!" I warn all of them as they leave. And they know exactly what I mean. If any of those fools do anything to keep that g-cylinder from being fixed I will have them all flogged.

Just to be safe I hail Yoi on the bridge and ask him to get a visual of life support so they can be observed while they work.

Suddenly there is a yell from up above. One of the floating prisoners has crashed into a mass of cables and gotten tangled. One of his companions has floated over and is attempting to free him by pulling on his arm and bracing against the bulkhead.

"Oh, Sir, this is going be good." The sergeant says a broad grin splitting his face. I glance at him and raise an eyebrow.

"Wait for it…" he says starting to chuckle.

Just then the glove of the tangled man comes off sending the one who was pulling on it screaming and cart wheeling across the hanger to crash onto the opposite wall with thud. He suddenly goes silent and limp.

The big sergeant bursts out laughing and shakes his head and I can't help laughing with him.

"That," he says pointing at the ceiling, "just made dealing with all this shit worthwhile." He tells me smiling, gesturing at the crowd of humans behind us. He is outspoken and crude. I immediately like him. I've spoken to him briefly and read his reports but I can't recall his name at the moment. I glance at his chest to check his badge. Cossak.

Now that I'm in charge the prisoners have been disarmed and evacuated quickly and mostly without incident. I think they believe that they are going to be moved to the holding cells of the Highlander. I wonder how they will react when we separate them. I look at the nearly two thousand male prisoners and I'm glad that I ordered those extra security teams to the hanger.

I order Sergeant Cossak to find Mendoza for me.

"Bridge to Commander Sincline." My second calls me over my comm.

"This is Sincline. Go ahead."

"Sir, we're being hailed by the Rihan Anssu. They want to know what the delay is."

Shit. I can't keep telling them technical difficulties. I look at the prisoners and mentally calculate how long it will take to move them all.

"Tell them we have an engineering crew getting life support back online. I estimate that we will be underway in forty five minutes." I say.

"Yes, sir. Understood."

"Sincline, out."

Cossack returns with Mendoza. He is taller than I imagined, nearly eye level with me.

"Human, I have decided that the crew of the Highlander will be divided between the two ships. After considering the dire situation with the pods and the lack of gravity I will be taking three hundred of the females aboard my ship with me." His eyes widen and he starts to say something but I continue. "And the rest of you will be put back on the pods until the g-cylinder can be fixed. I want you to inform your people of this. You are to tell them that you agree this is the best solution. Make sure they realize that I will make an example of any troublemakers. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir. Is it necessary to take the women?" He asks pointedly.

"Human! I'm surprised at you! Would you want me to leave them here? In these miserable conditions?" I scold him. "Oh, no I couldn't do that. It would not be…what's the word? Chivalrous. I wish I had room for them all."

His nostrils flair a little and he sets his jaw. I've seen this expression many times. It's the look one man gives another right before he throws a punch at him. I smirk at him daring him to try something. "Any other questions?"

"No…Sir." He almost spits out the last word. Cossack takes him over to the rows of prisoners so he can deliver my orders.

As I watch them walk away my vision clouds again and I feel a painful tightening around my skull. My headache is getting worse.

I receive word from the bridge that McAllister is secured aboard the Rihan Annsu and that the three prisoners have begun work on the g-cylinder. My second sends me a private message on my comm informing me that Yoi has had to be reprimanded twice for becoming distracted by the human female on the visual. Apparently he's fascinated by her 'spots.' Quite frankly, I'm a little surprised, I would have thought her hair was more noteworthy.

I walk over to where the prisoners are qued and I look them over while Mendoza speaks to them. It is a pleasant sight. Over two thousand of the Alliance's best and brightest that will never get the opportunity to fulfill their oath to protect and defend. Also, they are young and strong and worth a fortune to me in their monetary value and to the Supremacy in slave labor.

I glance quickly at the women, just enough to note that they are in formation at parade rest. I try not to pay obvious attention to them because I know that will cause a problem with the men. I see how restless they are and it would only take the smallest incident to incite a riot. They might be unarmed, but they outnumber us nearly twenty to one. This is arguably the most danger I have been in since the g-cylinder destabilized.

There is some dissent within the ranks as Mendoza finishes explaining what will happen. I unfasten the holster of my side arm and Cossack comes over and two guards flank me.

"Oh, fuck, Sir, this doesn't look good. " He says.

I nod in agreement. I can tell by the way a group of prisoners near the front left are shifting their weight and glancing around at each other and the guards that they have something planned. They are undoubtedly going to try to rush the guards and try to take their weapons. They are desperate and that is when the enemy is the most dangerous.

I am hesitant to order mine to fire in the hanger since there is too much risk of ricochet from the shielding that protect the walls of the hanger from accidental collisions.

"Do what you have to do but control your fire." I tell him.

"Yes, sir. Understood. By your leave?" Cossak asks me.

"As you will." I give him permission to handle the situation as he sees fit. As a senior non-commissioned officer in charge of security he has far more experience with newly captured prisoners than I do.

"Affix bayonets and prepare to engage!" He orders walking to the middle of the ranks. Moving like one entity, the security details ready their weapons and surround the both the male and female prisoners and take aim. It is an intimidating display.

The guards are no sooner in place when they are rushed by a group of the male prisoners. They are met with the glowing lazon blades of the bayonets. The attacking prisoners are quickly overcome without a single shot fired. They are gutted in place, speared on the ends of the rifles. Some are yanked off their feet when the guards withdraw their blades to move on to the next target. They float upward pumping sprays of blood into the air as they die. It floats in the air in a hazy red cloud swirling in the air currents. Others, more gruesomely, die on their feet, but the magnetized soles of their boots hold them down and they remain upright like broken toys in the zero gravity with their intestines and other organs blooming out of their wounds.

The dying gasps and gurgling screams of the fallen are terrible and effectively subdue any further violence. This was most likely an impromptu effort and the lack of a second wave gives further evidence of the lack of co-ordination. I wait until they quiet and then I take note of how many prisoners are no longer of any value. There are twenty seven dead.

I order the guards to escort the prisoners back onto the pods. There is another minor struggle involving about a half a dozen prisoners. They are quickly dispatched. There are four more dead, one of them is Mendoza. After that the rest comply without incident.

I turn my attention to the women who seem to have been shocked into submission by watching the deaths of their crewmates.

"Nhg. Sir, there's so many you could try them on like hats." I hear Cossack come up and murmur behind me.

I shoot him an admonishing look, but he's right. There certainly is an impressive variety from all over the Alliance. As much as I want to take my time examining each one the shuttles are arriving and I must get underway. There will be plenty of time for that later.

"I am Commander Sincline of the Drule Supremacy's Fourth fleet. You are now the property of the Supremacy and under my authority until the negotiated arraignments can be made for your release." I say to them. "You will step forward when you hear your name called."

We begin calling the names on the roster but no one comes forward. They just stand there impassively like they haven't understood. I know what they are doing. It is the worst mistake they could have made. I stalk the ranks scanning the name badges until I find one on my list that I have called with no response.

"Are you Specialist Melissa Nguyen?" I ask fingering the letters stenciled on her suit.

"Yes." She answers in a clipped tone staring straight ahead.

"Did you hear your name called?"

"No, sir. I did not. Your accent makes it difficult understand you." She answers and I hear the hint sarcasm in her voice.

I glance around at her fellows and the conspiring glances they exchange confirm my suspicions. I know exactly what game they are playing and I intend to make an example of her.

"I see." I say and then I grab her by the arm and yank her out of line and drag her over to the nearest two soldiers behind me.

"She is insolent and needs to be taught a lesson." I tell them and turn back around. I don't need to watch what is happening. I can hear the sounds of the struggle and the rending of fabric. The horrified expressions of the women, the sound of my men cheering and Nguyen's screams let me know that my orders are being carried out.

"Does anyone else have difficultly understanding me?" I ask. They answer with a few trembling head shakes and several barely audible mumbles of "No, sir."

Suddenly the women are very co-operative and the prisoner transfer to the _Rihan Anssu_ is accomplished with surprising efficiency.

 


End file.
